SHORT STORIES: GROWING UP
by 1001bjy6907
Summary: A few short stories about Harry Dresden as he grows up. Includes the story of meeting Elaine, his shielding lessons with Justin DuMorne, meeting his "Auntie Lea", and how he was discovered by the Wardens.


**Elaine**

***This is the story of when Harry first met Elaine, when they were both ten years old. Have zero experience with ten-year olds, so don't judge too hard. From Harry's POV.***

I sat criss-cross on the musty khaki-colored carpet, the fireplace crackling cheerfully behind me. I placed an empty can of soda on the little table between me and the old blue-and-green plaid couch. I kept wolfing down the sandwich Justin had left me. Ham and cheese. With mustard. Delicious.

The front door suddenly slammed open. Justin was home. I nearly choked on my sandwich, struggling to my feet.

Before I was on my feet, DuMorne strode around the corner. He was probably a hair under six feet tall with the stocky shoulders of a boxer and the same clipped, black buzz cut. He wore a simple black silk shirt, tucked into a pair of tight denim jeans. He gripped a staff of some kind of dark wood in his left hand, the top carved into a shape of a cobra.

Behind him, peering around the corner was a girl.

She looked like she was about my age, although she was definitely taller than me. She was lithe and slender, wearing chartreuse corduroy overalls that clashed with her scuffed, secondhand pink sneakers. One of them had come untied. She was pretty, with long wheat-brown hair tied into a ponytail. She smiled shyly at me. She already had braces.

My heart instantly started beating faster. "Uh," I said, struggling to swallow the last chunks of my sandwich. "Hi."

"Hi," she said, flashing me another smile. It was stunning. I tried to sweep the crumbs off of my jeans.

Justin walked a little closer to me, standing halfway between the two of us. "Harry," he said, "this is your adoptive sister Elaine."

My jaw dropped. Sister? I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest. I had grown up dreaming about having a sister. Or a brother. Or a mom, dad, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. Any kind of family.

Justin turned towards the girl, Elaine. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

Even though I just finished my sandwich, my stomach rumbled quietly.

DuMorne took that as an affirmative. "I'll make some sandwiches." He walked towards the kitchen, boots clicking on the floor precisely. Leaving me alone with the girl. I fiddled with my hands, still sticky with mustard. My stomach churned with uncertainty and an odd, fluttery kind of excitement. I stared down at the khaki carpet.

"Can I have your chips?" she asked. She pointed down at the bag of Lays at my feet. It was barbecue flavor, my favorite.

I stooped over, picking up the bag of chips and held them out to her.

"Thanks," she said. Her voice was like wind chimes in a warm summer breeze. She broke open the bag and had just started munching when Justin called from the kitchen.

"Both of you, come to the kitchen please." He had said please, but I knew what happened when I didn't listen. It must have shown on my face. Elaine looked at me, a confused expression flickering over her face.

My sister and I walked towards the kitchen together.

**Baseball**

***This is the story of Harry's first shielding lesson. From Harry's POV***

The next baseball struck me square on my chin, sending me spinning to the ground.

It hurt. A lot.

I struggled back to my feet, dizzy. That was going to leave a bruise. I hoped it would fade by the time I had school on Monday. I wasn't sure if I could explain this one away to my homeroom teacher like I had last time.

Thunder crackled above us. We were standing out in a big, open field behind our house. Behind me was the vast expanse of cornfield, reaching up to about my chin and starting to brown in the harsh August heat. Grey clouds had started sweeping in from the west, lightning crackling through the clouds. A few seconds later, there was an angry snap of thunder.

"Is this the best you can do?" Justin said. He wore a black leather vest over his usual grey silk shirt, his mouth turned up in a sneer. He leaned over, picking up another baseball.

I gritted my teeth, biting back an angry retort. "I can do better," I said.

I started gathering in my will again, focusing on the image of a vertical dome of energy between me and him. It weakly flickered into existence like a faulty light bulb, and I threw more energy into it with quiet desperation. "Defendre, defendre, defendre," I chanted under my breath.

Justin gave me a mocking smile. He tossed the baseball straight up in the air, and as it fell threw he redirected it with a spell of his own to come hurtling towards me.

The baseball hit my shield, and it flared with a sudden blue light, slowing slightly. That way it was only traveling at maybe thirty miles per hour when it hit me in the gut.

I dropped to the ground, struggling to breathe for a second. Nauseating pain rolled through my abdomen, and I felt like I was going to throw up. A wave of exhaustion hit me next. That shield was the best one I had done yet, and it still wasn't enough. I wasn't enough.

Heavy beads of rain started falling. They disguised the ugly streaks of tears on my cheeks.

I hauled myself back up to my feet, clenching my fists. Thunder crackled again.

I started gathering my will again, feeding energy into the spell like adding tinder to a flame. I focused intently on the shield, and it flickered back to life, stronger this time. I shoved my desperation, my rage, my pain into the spell and the azure dome turned as bright as the lightning flickering through the clouds above me. This time, I didn't try to dodge the baseball. I didn't tense up my muscles in preparation for the strike. This time, my shield would work. It had to.

"Defendre," I shouted.

The shiny white baseball bounced off the shield and hit the mud, rolling a few feet. I blinked, wavering on my feet as the wave of exhaustion hit me again. It had worked.

I couldn't hold back the shout of joy. I jumped up and down a few times, despite the exhaustion and hunger now coursing through my body. I whooped and hollered until it turned into a strangled giggle. Justin remained where he was, but I could see a fierce grin of approval on his face. My chest swelled with pride.

The rain had started falling heavier now, coming down in sheets with the wind. The sky had gone an angry dark grey. Thunder rumbled in the clouds, and lightning flashed. There were flecks of mud splashed all over my sneakers and jeans.

I turned towards Justin, shouting to be heard over the wind. "Should we go inside?" I asked.

Justin picked up another baseball.

**Auntie Lea**

***This is a story describing the first time that Harry met his "Auntie Lea"***

By the time detention was over, the sun had started setting, casting a warm golden light into the early October air. I started walking out of the school building with my backpack slung over my shoulders, holding my dented metal lunchbox in my hand. It had Captain America and Iron Man and Spiderman on it, although the colors had faded from use over the past year. Spiderman was my favorite.

One of my shoes was untied. I stopped by to tie it, and when I straightened up, a woman sat on the bench across from the flagpole.

She was stunning. Her rich red hair was tucked up into a bun on top of her head, and a few stray curls bounced around her face. She had delicate cheekbones, a full mouth, and creamy pale skin. She wore a green chiffon dress that emphasized her slender waist and, uh, full bosom. Her feet were bare, despite the chilly evening. And she was staring at me rather intently.

"Hi ma'am." My voice cracked a little. "Are you alright?"

She tilted her head a little, smiling a little too wide, showing off her pearly white teeth. Her eyes were a pleasant, tawny gold. "Would you like a ride home?" she asked politely.

I looked towards the curb. There was an elegant, vintage Rolls Royce parked there. It was a shiny black, without a trace of mud or dust on the car. The interior was rich red leather. I blinked a little. That was a damn nice car.

The walk home to Justin's was a little over an hour, around four miles outside of city limits. And detention had run late, meaning I might not have time to get home before dinner and Justin didn't exactly wait up for me. In all likelihood, walking home this late meant going to bed hungry.

Or I could let the lady on the bench drive me home. My stomach grumbled.

"Only if it isn't too much trouble, ma'am." I said.

"I mind not," she said. She had a little bit of an accent, maybe British. She walked over to the passenger side of the car, and nobly waited for me to open the door for her.

I walked over. "Uh," I said. I was only fourteen. "I don't have my license."

She seemed unconcerned. "The authorities won't bother us, dear."

"Ma'am, I don't want to get arrested."

She smiled sweetly. "I'd like to see them try."

I opened the door for her and she slid into the bar, giving me a great view of her decolletage while she did. Then I walked around to the drivers side of the car and got in.

. . .

I managed to make it back to Justin's place in one piece. The sun had disappeared from the sky, replaced with the dusky blues, pinks, and purples of twilight.

"Thank you, Miss-" I faltered. The nice lady had taken me home, even allowed me to drive her car, and I didn't know her name.

"Miss Lea," she said, flashing me another dazzling smile . "But you can call me Auntie Lea."

**Grey Cloaks**

***This is the story of how Harry was found by the Wardens, from Morgan's POV***

The sharp, acrid scent of smoke floated on the air, and the shell of a building smoldered. The walls that hadn't been burnt to ash were simply a loose framework of blackened beams. The roof had fallen unevenly, and I could see the twisted metal of a banister sticking out from the rubble. Virtually the only standing structure left was the brick fireplace, charred black with soot with flecks of white from the ash floating from the sky. DuMorne was clearly nowhere to be found.

Untouched from flame, there was a boy curled in the fetal position. He was quite young and tall, well over six feet tall, with the lean muscle of youth. Dark of hair and eye, his skin was ashen and marred with a variety of burns, lacerations, and bruises. His shirt had been burned to bare shreds and he was shivering intensely, so he must have been alive.

I drew my sword.

The other wardens followed my lead, drawing their swords. The swords we wore were sharp, silver lengths of enchanted metal capable of cutting through magic and flesh alike. They reflected the red, sullen light of the various fires that had yet to be extinguished.

The boy- the warlock- had opened his eyes, staring aimlessly. He had not detected myself or the other wardens, appearing to be in a deep state of either exhaustion or shock. I focused my will into an invisible dome in front of myself, charcoal and ash crumpled under my boots as I crept forward. I held up a hand and gestured forward the other three wardens, all of whom had magical defenses at the ready. One warden that was barely a decade older than the warlock trembled fearfully.

Typically, warlocks would be killed upon resisting arrest. Or at least in my experience that had been the case. If not killed, they would face a swift trial and even swifter execution for their crimes. This warlock looked like he could've barely resisted the mortal authorities, much less four Wardens of the White Council. However, given the generous destruction DuMorne's property had faced, I decided it would be best not to take chances.

I lowered my sword to the hollow just above the collar of his tattered shirt. The warlock weakly twisted away from the metal, and I pressed the sword sharper into his neck. His eyes met mine, and started to come into focus.

"Who are you?" His voice was barely a whisper.

I didn't answer him. I gestured to the closest warden, a man named Johan Thorsen, who seized the young man's hands and snapped a pair of thorn manacles into place. The young man bucked slightly as Thorsen shoved a knee into his back and forced him into a painful kneeling position. My sword never wavered from his throat.

"My name is Warden Morgan," I said, my voice low. "And you are under arrest."


End file.
